


a year with you

by yanjun (broduce)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, its cringey yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 21:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15300603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broduce/pseuds/yanjun
Summary: zhangjing and yanjun through the four seasons





	a year with you

Zhangjing thinks he likes summer because of the sticky, sweet indulgence of cold ice cream on his tongue.

His personal favorite flavor is mango — sweet, with a slight tart taste that lingers in his mouth. It reminds him of Yanjun — sweet, like how Yanjun carries him to bed and tucks him in when he falls asleep on the couch after movie nights; tart, like how Yanjun tells him he shouldn't eat so much at night yet is the one who takes him out for midnight snacks.

Zhangjing, from his position in the bleachers, watches Yanjun play basketball as he licks his melting ice cream. The sun is shining full blast in the sky, the heat radiating down in waves. Zhangjing wonders how Yanjun is surviving, jumping and running after the ball.

There's at least a dozen players on the court, yet Zhangjing's eyes follow just one. Yanjun is wearing a sleeveless shirt, and Zhangjing is appreciative of the view as Yanjun takes control of the ball and dribbles down the court. He watches as Yanjun takes a step back from the three-point line and from his defender, faking a left, before shooting the ball straight into the net with barely a swish.

There are cheers all around him, but Zhangjing settles for a proud smile as he takes another bite of his ice cream. Yanjun turns toward the small crowd that has gathered and sends an exaggerated wink and smile. That gets an even louder cheer, which makes Zhangjing roll his eyes with humor since he knows they were directed at him.

Five minutes go by, and Zhangjing is nearly done with his ice cream. He waits another ten minutes before he gets up to go to the trash can, and smiles with satisfaction when he sees Yanjun look away from the game at him — their unspoken sign for Yanjun to wrap up so they can leave together.

Yanjun immediately signals someone on the sidelines to replace him, and Zhangjing thinks he hears more than a few groans of disappointment from around him at the change in players.

Zhangjing makes his way down the steps of the bleachers as Yanjun grabs a bottle of water from the sidelines and gulps it finished before crushing the bottle with his hands and aiming at a nearby recycling bin. He makes the shot, to the cheers of a few fangirls and to the exasperation of Zhangjing — _show off_ , he thinks with a scoff.

Zhangjing watches as Yanjun lifts the end of his shirt up to wipe the sweat covering his forehead, exposing a tanned and toned stomach. This time, the sounds from around Zhangjing are a mixture of strange garbled screams and longing sighs.

Yanjun meets him at the end of the stairs, sun-kissed skin glistening from sweat, wind-blown hair swept back, excited eyes still fiery from competition, looking positively beautiful.

Zhangjing walks past him without a word.

He almost makes it past the bleachers before a hand is grabbing his arm, pulling him back. He doesn't protest when Yanjun drags him behind the bleachers. Yanjun is smiling when Zhangjing looks up.

"What?" He asks, and he's proud of the slight growl in his tone.

Yanjun is still smiling that easy, beautiful smile of his, and Zhangjing's frown wavers.

"How'd I do?" Yanjun asks, hooking his thumbs around Zhangjing's belt loops to bring him closer, disregarding Zhangjing's first question.

And Zhangjing knows that Yanjun knows why he's irritated. And he knows that he shouldn't fall into the trap so easily. But he can't think with Yanjun pulling him so close that he can see a single bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face.

So, Zhangjing can't help the "real well, you did real well in flirting and showing off your abs" that comes out of his mouth.

And Lin Yanjun, the bastard, only grins wider.

"What, jealous?" Yanjun asks, the tease in his voice as apparent as Zhangjing's effort to look anywhere but at Yanjun.

"No," Zhangjing replies, unconvincing even to his own ears.

"You know you don't have to be," Yanjun tells him, the smile he offers Zhangjing now soft and genuine.

And Zhangjing does know, but he's petty and whiny, so he crosses his arms over his chest and doesn't reply. But then Yanjun is unhooking his fingers from his belt loops and instead wrapping his arms around Zhangjing's waist to pull him into his embrace, so that Zhangjing has no choice but to stumble into his chest.

Zhangjing looks up into playful but affectionate eyes, and for a moment he forgets that he's supposed to be pretending to be a brat.

Yanjun doesn't say anything before leaning down for a kiss. Zhangjing squeaks, grasping the thin fabric of Yanjun's shirt for support, and the action gives Yanjun the chance to swipe into Zhangjing's mouth.

When Yanjun pulls away, he has on a satisfied smile as he licks his lips, slightly contemplative. "Mango. My favorite."

Zhangjing slaps him lightly on the arm, whatever fake irritation and frustrations he previously held onto now completely dissolved, and pulls Yanjun down for another kiss.

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing thinks he likes fall because of the pretty scenic view.

The walk home from classes is always nice this time of year, the wind rustling the colorful leaves on the trees and blowing his fringe in and out of his eyes.

Yanjun is almost always quiet during these walks home, admiring the view as Zhangjing admires him.

There's something special about the way Yanjun's eyes sparkle as he watches the neighborhood children shriek and laugh; something enchanting about the way his lips curl up into a soft smile as he watches the colorful leaves rustle and fall down the trees; something heart-stopping about the way he looks over his shoulder, his feet slowing as he realizes Zhangjing has fallen a few steps behind.

Fall is a great time of year because there is just enough chill for Zhangjing to slip his hand into Yanjun's and for Yanjun to then slip both their hands into his coat pocket.

When Yanjun flashes Zhangjing a smile and a quick wait for me before dashing off, Zhangjing is left standing dumbfounded in the middle of the sidewalk.

Yanjun comes back two minutes later, his hands hidden behind his back, and Zhangjing is immediately suspicious. Yet, when Yanjun's smile stretches wide and his eyes twinkle with excitement, Zhangjing finds himself enamoured, all suspicions forgotten.

Yanjun skips toward Zhangjing, stopping only when he's right in front of him. Zhangjing waits, his gaze full of questions.

Yanjun's smile is brilliant and dazzling under the glint of the afternoon sun, and Zhangjing is distracted enough by it to be startled when Yanjun suddenly thrusts both hands up in front of Zhangjing's face.

Zhangjing finds himself blinking at a big bouquet of colorful leaves.

He looks up at Yanjun, the questions in his eyes multiplied.

Yanjun laughs at his expression, and it's the laugh where he throws his entire head back, the one that makes Zhangjing worried he'll snap his neck in half. He never does, however, and secretly, Zhangjing is thrilled that he's able to give Yanjun such happiness.

"Here. For you," Yanjun tells him, the smile not leaving his face as he thrusts the handful closer to Zhangjing.

Zhangjing has no choice but to accept the bouquet, carefully so as not to drop some of the leaves.

"You Zhangjing," Yanjun says with a serious tone, even though the laugh is still on his lips, the twinkle still in his eyes. "I am currently a broke university student who can't afford bouquets of flowers, so please accept this bouquet of leaves for now."

Zhangjing stares at Yanjun for a minute before bursting into laughter. Yanjun laughs with him, and Zhangjing thinks he sees a slight shade of pink dusting Yanjun's cheeks. He leans up to kiss one of them.

"You're a dork," Zhangjing mumbles, still laughing as he steps back.

Yanjun sweeps back down to press a quick kiss on Zhangjing's lips. "But I'm your dork."

And Zhangjing can't argue with that, so he just throws the handful of leaves upward, watching colors of red, green, and orange flutter around them as Yanjun pulls him close.

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing thinks he likes winter because of the soft snow that flutters down and cushions the pavement.

It's always cold during the winter months, and Zhangjing likes nothing more than staying at home wrapped in a big blanket on the couch.

Yanjun usually joins him, sporting a soft sweater and comfortable pants, book in hand as he perches a pair of spectacles on top of his nose.

Zhangjing likes this Yanjun — this soft, quiet, thoughtful Yanjun. But then he thinks about the charismatic Yanjun standing on stage for the school festival, all cocky smirks and teasing smiles, and he thinks that he likes that Yanjun too. And then he thinks about the goofy and silly Yanjun, all boisterous laughs and flashing dimples, all his, and Zhangjing thinks that he _loves_ that Yanjun.

They sit on opposite ends of the couch, Yanjun closer to the window, Zhangjing farther away as he marvels at the view — Lin Yanjun, with a backdrop of the snow falling outside.

There's something about the way Yanjun lounges on the couch that tugs at Zhangjing's heartstrings. Maybe it's the spectacles, giving his usual playful demeanor a more serious vibe; or the pursed lips and knitted eyebrows, signs of concentration; maybe it's the way his legs tangle with Zhangjing's underneath the blanket, as if it's the most natural thing; or maybe it's the way he sometimes peeks over, giving Zhangjing that familiar heart-stopping smile.

Zhangjing is startled out of his thoughts when he feels a tug on his leg. He looks over to see Yanjun staring at him, a gentle frown on his lips. Zhangjing, without needing any verbal command, scoots closer. Yanjun doesn't seem satisfied, however, and keeps tugging, so Zhangjing keeps scooting. When he's close enough, Yanjun puts an arm around his waist, pulling him until Zhangjing finds himself sitting on his lap.

Zhangjing blinks as Yanjun weaves both arms around his middle in an embrace.

"Hmm?" In this position, he's just slightly taller than Yanjun and is able to tilt his head down to look at him. He reaches over to brush some hair out of Yanjun's eyes, and when he does, warm brown orbs stare back up at him.

"It's cold," Yanjun says in lieu of a proper explanation, tightening his hold on Zhangjing's waist as he burries his face into the crook of his neck.

Zhangjing feels Yanjun nuzzle the exposed skin above his sweater and shivers as soft locks tickle his chin. When Yanjun presses soft kisses up his neck, Zhangjing giggles breathlessly, his arms coming up to wrap around Yanjun's shoulder in a tight grip. There's still a hint of a laugh on his mouth when Yanjun finally kisses him.

"'S not cold anymore," Yanjun mumbles against his lips, and Zhangjing has to agree.

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing thinks he likes spring for the perpetual faint, earthy scent of lingering rain water.

It reminds him of home — of his mom's freshly-baked cookies, of innocent laughter, and, somehow, of Yanjun's arms wrapped tight around him.

Now, standing under a random vendor's tarp, Zhangjing looks out into the pouring rain. He really usually doesn't mind the rain, but when it starts pouring without warning while he's walking home from classes without an umbrella, it becomes something of a mild annoyance.

Zhangjing sighs. The rain doesn't seem like it will let up anytime soon, and he can't hide forever. Before he can dash off in a run, however, he's stopped by the old man manning the stand who offers him this morning's newspaper and a kind _it's not much, but it's better than nothing_. When Zhangjing starts patting his pockets to look for spare change, the man quickly stops him with a forceful shake of the head, almost shoving the newspaper into his hands. Zhangjing takes it with multiple words of gratitude and an even more thankful heart. He makes a mental note to tell Yanjun to buy magazines and books at this stand more often.

Zhangjing readies himself, backpack pulled tight to his chest and tucked under his chin, newspaper opened flat above his head. And even though the newspaper is completely soaked a few seconds after running straight into the rain, Zhangjing is thankful for the thin barrier.

The walk from the stand to the apartment isn't long, and with Zhangjing running, it's even shorter. By the time he spots his building, the rain has lessened enough for him to slow his pace to a walk.

He sees a figure waiting behind the building doors, and he unconsciously quickens his pace when he recognizes Yanjun's familiar outline. Yanjun seems to spot him at the same time, because in a flash, the doors are opened and he's running toward Zhangjing.

Zhangjing's brain barely registers that Yanjun also doesn't have an umbrella before Yanjun reaches him, hair matted against his forehead, eyes blinking out rain water, yet that beautiful smile present on his lips.

"Are you crazy?" Zhangjing calls out, laughing. "Why are you out here without an umbrella?"

Just as Zhangjing is reaching out to pull Yanjun's arm so they can both run to shelter, Yanjun stops him with that crazy glint in his eyes — the one that appears when he drags Zhangjing up to the roof of their Arts building even though it's restricted, when he suggests they skip class to go to that concert two hours away, when he leans over to kiss Zhangjing in plain daylight as they walk to their next class.

"Dance with me," Yanjun says, smiling even as he has to bring a hand up to move his fringe away from his forehead so less rain travels into his eyes.

"What?" Zhangjing thinks he's heard wrong.

"Dance with me," Yanjun repeats, stepping closer.

They stand together, two fools in the rain, Zhangjing's eyes wide, Yanjun's smile wider.

"You're crazy," Zhangjing whispers, half awed and half incredulous.

Yet he finds that he can't protest when Yanjun tugs him into his arms, hands immediately moving to his waist as he starts swaying them from side to side.

"What are we doing?" Zhangjing asks, laughing as he grips onto Yanjun and tries not to fall in the slippery road.

Yanjun shrugs and joins in the laughter. "Enjoying the moment?"

And Zhangjing thinks that's a perfectly valid answer, so he just grins and stands on his tip-toes to press a kiss onto Yanjun's smiling mouth. Yanjun kisses back sweetly, his arms around Zhangjing tightening. Then he's pushing Zhangjing away before twirling him right back to him, and Zhangjing's arms come up to wrap around Yanjun's neck.

He looks up through heavy eyelashes to see Yanjun, in all his wet, beautiful glory, watching him with a warmth that, strangely, makes him shiver.

"Cold?" Yanjun murmurs, pressing Zhangjing closer.

And Zhangjing wants to say that no, it's never cold in Yanjun's arms, but he's at a loss of words so he just shakes his head against Yanjun's chest and lets Yanjun press a quick kiss against his temple before whisking him away under the drizzle of the spring showers.

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing realizes that he likes summer, fall, winter, and spring all equally because no matter the season, Yanjun is always there.

**Author's Note:**

> this is so corny and cringy and cliche and i'm not even sorry
> 
> find me on twitter! [@y4njun](https://twitter.com/y4njun)


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